One With the Enemy
by ThatCraftyItalian
Summary: Times can be hard when the man that you have been enemies with for your whole life suddenly becomes the one that you lust after the most. Ivan and Alfred must figure out what it is like to overcome their hatred, and accept their love for one another.
1. Chapter 1 - Understanding

_Author's Notes: This is technically my first fanfiction. I will try to update regularly, but I am in college, so.. anyway, please review if you want more chapters! I won't make them if you don't want them! Enjoy~_

 **Chapter 1 - Understanding**  
"Alfredka, I hope you know I have to kill you now, Да?"  
The smaller blond visibly winced. Despite such an action, he quickly reverted himself back to his typical heroic demeanor. He was nearly straining himself to speak in an even tone."There's no way a damn communist like you is going to actually kill the one and only Alfred Foster Jones." Was his retort. His voice was hoarse, with a hint of a growling undertone.

Laughter came from deep within the pale Russians throat, his jaw looking firm and rigid as he did so. His appearance was emanating pure masculinity and power. The sheer size of the broad-shouldered Russian made the 6-foot (182.88cm) tall American look rather small and weak by comparison. It certainly did not help that the American was currently bound to a chair, helpless and restricted in what appeared to be a form of interrogation chamber. He was attempting to make his way out of the bindings, particularly the ones around his wrists. He had been known to escape situations like this before, but Ivan had grown more intelligent in his administrations, making it far more difficult for the American to make his vanishing act. Alfred's face was stern as he looked up at the offending force that was Ivan Braginski.

"Kolkolkolkolkol~! Oh, Amerika, you always did know how to make me laugh." He said with a devilish grin as he pulled out his famous faucet pipe. He then proceeded to walk around the backside of the American, taking a special kind of care to brush the cold metal up under the tanned jaw of the bound American. Alfred gritted his teeth together, and made a sharp hissing sound as the metal brushed his skin. With that, Ivan pulled the bar into very close proximity of the tanned blond's throat, pressing it hard into his Adam's apple. This caused the American to emit a rather distressed squeak of discomfort. He writhed a little, and attempted to move his head backwards; finding only that it met the hard, firm abdomen of the Russian. This also unfortunately barred his throat further, allowing it to be even more vulnerable to the pale power behind him. Ivan wasted no time in taking this to his advantage, and pulled the pipe to a rest directly under Alfred's angled jaw, thus preventing the American from moving his head.

"Dude... I can barely… breathe." Alfred choked out. He once more attempted to move, but to no avail. The hero was trapped, and in agony, awaiting his certain doom. His typically shimmery sapphire eyes were hollow now. He was sitting on death row. He was right where Ivan had wanted him./p  
"Ah, Alfredka… all you had to do was answer one question. If you had, we wouldn't be in this mess. Oh, no matter though, I suppose I can still kill you."

For once in his life, the American felt himself swallowing his pride. His words were soft and strained against the bar at his throat. "Ivan… don't kill me…" he pleaded; his sapphire orbs were brimming at the edges with bitter, bitter tears. "Please."

The platinum blond Russian stared for a few moments at the male beneath him, in utter disbelief. He, at that moment, felt not pity, but empathy. There was once before, when the young American had spared Ivan's life.

 _Gun point. That was right were Alfred had had Ivan. They were in Russia, a fresh blanket of pure snow was on the ground, and both had been staining the ground red; a result of a fight and struggle, along with the will to live. Both had been lying in the biting winter air. Alfred had brought himself up to one knee, clutching one side tightly with one hand, and with the other, reached for the gun at his side. He lined it up, pulled the hammer back, and placed a shaky finger on the trigger. Though, something in him had snapped. He had looked at the broken and bleeding Ivan before him, and instead, dropped the pistol into the snow, and made his way towards the Russian. He then reached forwards, and with all of his strength, heaved the large male up, thus beginning his arduous task of dragging the Russian to the nearest village for aid. They had both lost a lot of blood, and Alfred felt nauseous and dizzy as Ivan began to slip out of consciousness. "вы ДействитеЛЬно сумасшедший." (You really are crazy.) Whispered the Russian before he finally fell unconscious._

He slid the pipe away, and let it crash to the floor with a sickening clang. He then moved around to the front of Alfred, and looked him in the eyes, the perfect moment of amethyst on sapphire. His once fear-inducing expression had turned to one of softness, and slight pain. He knelt down, and moved his hands to begin unbinding Alfred. Alfred sat there, dumbstruck, and unaware. He had no clue what had made Ivan actually comply, but he couldn't complain. He just prayed that Ivan wasn't planning to torture him in some other room. Instead, he released him of the rest of his bounds. Alfred took a moment to rub the tender places on his wrists, warily watching the Russian giant as he did so. However, rather than make a break for it, like he had originally planned, he sat there still as stone.

"Hmm… is something the matter, Alfredka?"

Alfred shook his head in response. "No, dude, I just don't understand you. That's all." The American said, swallowing softly. "You could have killed me, but you didn't. Not that I'm complaining! I just…" Alfred shifted nervously.

"Да and you could have killed me that day in the snow, but instead you saved my life." Ivan whispered. He then leaned towards the American slightly, and reached a hand out to brush a calloused thumb against the ridge of Alfred's cheekbone. This caused the lean body of the American to shiver a little, being unused to this kind of treatment, especially from Ivan Braginski. He tilted his head to look at Ivan; a bit of an off expression was on his face. He wasn't sure what to think.

"Uhh… dude…?"

"Shh…" Ivan whispered softly. He leaned in more, allowing their noses to touch.

"Alfredka, I've only just realized how beautiful you are. Your heart is… so pure, and I…"

Alfred's face no longer showed pain or fear. Nor did it show the confusion that had been there moments ago. Rather, it looked innocent. The brightness returned to his eyes as he gazed dreamily into the Russian's own. His breathing was slow, and his voice was soft. "Ivan, I…" he began. "I never knew you might feel that way. Actually, I never even knew that I might feel the same." He shifted slightly out of embarrassment.

With that, Ivan tilted his head, and brushed his lips lightly against Alfred's, in a small kiss, still caressing the American's cheek as he did so. Alfred, blushing now, raised his hands up to trace along the strong back of the larger male, coming to a stop as he wrapped them around his neck. Their quiet gaze continued for a moment before they crashed their lips together in a hot, passionate kiss, with Alfred slowly standing himself upwards, using Ivan for support. Ivan laced his fingers into soft golden hair, as they continued. It did not last long however, as Alfred slipped away from Ivan.

"… Do you really think, I mean, dude… should we even be like this? We're supposed to hate each other, so why do you make me feel…?" Alfred tried to back away from Ivan, but bumped into the chair instead, and he realized he had nowhere to go.

"Да, I don't understand it either. Just… go for now…" He said quietly as he unlocked the door. "Return home, Amerika."


	2. Chapter 2 - Facing Fears

_Author's Notes: Ok! Here's chapter 2! There is no Russia in this chapter, though he is mentioned in dialogue. There is however, Arthur Kirkland! Oh, and I use both country and human names, but they are countries. So, when an age is given, it is the "appearance" age, or how they seem to act, not how old the country actually is. Please review! Enjoy!_

 **Chapter** **2** **–** **Facing Fears**

"England, I'm scared. I don't understand, I...!" Alfred wailed out as he ran in the door, his voice frantic as he spoke. "He should have killed me, oh my god, he should have killed me, and, and he almost did, but he didn't, and then we kissed and, Arthur! I think I-"

"Alfred!" The concerned Brit snapped with a stamp of his foot. "Bloody hell! Calm down would you?!" He walked over to the crazy American, and placed a hand on his shoulder, while taking the other one to give him a swift slap across the face. "Pull yourself together, and explain slowly." He commanded.

Alfred stumbled back a bit, and readjusted his glasses. Arthur walked behind him, and closed the front door as Alfred began to speak. "Ivan… he… didn't kill me. He didn't kill me, Arthur. I was right there, and he just… stopped."

"So, let me get this straight. You are all worked up because Ivan spared your life? Is that correct? I mean, honestly, America… you're alive, so quit your blabbering, you git."

Alfred shook his head. "No, no, no. You don't understand! He likes me… and I think…"

"He likes you? What on earth gave you that idea?"

"He kissed me."

"He did what?"

"He kissed me, Arthur… and I kissed him back." Alfred stated flatly. He leaned backwards against the wall as he remembered the moment he and Ivan had shared.

Arthur raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, the gesture being quite visible underneath his dishelved hair. "You really are something. I thought you two were rivals. Out for each other's blood."

"We're supposed to be! That's what I don't get! We had like, a moment and everything though! I don't know man; I'm starting to think I actually might really like him, but… I'm scared. Arthur, I don't know how to feel." The young American said as he swallowed hard.

"Alfred F. Jones, you are twenty years old. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but you should know how you feel about Ivan."

"But I don't!" Alfred protested.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and let out a heavy sigh. "Alfred, boy, come here." He said as the American reluctantly complied. He sat him down on the couch, and sat down next to him, looking into his eyes. "I've known you longer than anyone else has, Alfred, I mean, bloody hell I raised you. Now, are you trying to tell me, that Alfred F. Jones, no, America, the country of freedom, is afraid of falling in love?"

"LOVE?!" Alfred's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the words. "I, I, I might have said that I like the guy, but what in tarnation makes you think I love him?! You've gone off the deep end! You're crazy! You're mad! How could I possibly love the man I've spent so long trying to kill?! How could he ever feel the same way?!" His head was now reeling with questions.

"Did I or did I not say calm down?!" The British male snapped. "Obviously, you have feelings for that brute of a man, or you wouldn't have come to me blabbering about it, now would you?" He held the Americans face firmly in his hands.

Alfred looked at him in bewilderment, eyes wide, and he found himself unable to form words. Then, he found the strength to form a few. "He's not a brute."

"So, you're defending him?"

"N-No… I… umm..."

"You're defending him, you git."

"Ok, ok! I am defending him!"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because… because I don't know!

The American sank back into the couch, and threw his hands to his face, and he tore his glasses off, sending them to the floor with a crash. They shattered, but he did not seem to care as hot tears began to streak down his face. "I don't know!" He screamed as he ran to his room, effectively slamming into a wall before finding the door. Even after all these years, despite his independence, England had kept a room for America. The latter was sobbing, and crying, and he violently slammed the door before locking it. Arthur let out a deep sigh, and decided that going after him was not for the best. Instead, he took to picking shards of Alfred's glasses out of the carpet.

"That poor git…" He sighed out.


	3. Chapter 3 - Questions and Answers

_Author's Notes: I hope all of you are enjoying this so far! Here's the third chapter, and yes it has more Russia! As always, pretty please let me know how I'm doing by writing a review, or you can always DM me on Instagram lovinolovestomatos or Kik me at LovinoLovesTomatos. If you use Kik, please make the first thing you say "That scarf would look cuter on the American." so that I know it's not someone weird. Please contact me! I don't bite, I promise! Now, on to the chapter~_

 **Chapter 3 – Questions and Answers**

Alfred lay in his bed, curled up in a defenseless ball of tears. He hated not knowing how he felt, or rather, why he was feeling that way. He felt sick to his stomach, and not even burgers sounded good to him. "Why…?" He whined into his pillow that was now soaked with tears. Then, later, after he felt that he had no more tears left, he glanced over in the direction of his cell phone, and wished he could see better. He reached over for it, and unlocked it from memory. '287437' were the characters he typed, which, spelled out 'BURGER.' It was not the best, nor the strongest password, but he never seemed to care. He started to scroll through his contacts, and he was squinting so that he could barely make out what they said. When he finally got to "Commie Bastard" in his contacts, he took a deep breath, inhaling sharply before deciding that he had to do this. He had to call Ivan. He had to get answers. He pressed the call button, and pulled the device up to his ear, waiting in patience for the Russian to pick up. Some five minutes later, when all that the phone had done was ring, he hung up, and threw his head backwards against a pillow. He almost began to cry again, but choked back the tears on his own. "Alfred F. Jones, you are stronger than this." He told himself. He sat up, brought his knees to his chest, and set his phone down for a bit so he could collect his thoughts. "Ok, so he might just be busy… or maybe, he's just as confused as me? Yeah, that could be it!" He whispered to himself excitedly. "Maybe I should try calling again. Then again, that might make me seem needy. What if I am then? Huh. As long as I don't call him like, ten times or something, I'm all good, right? Right." With that, he straightened himself out, ceased his sniffling, and put his knees down. He leaned up against the wall, and squinted back down at his phone. He could hardly see a thing. That was when he remembered that he had some contact lenses in the drawer next to the bed. He hated them really, he much preferred his glasses, and he felt like they were a part of his style. However, he reached into the drawer, and pulled them out, and he carefully began to put them in, one at a time. It was agitating, but when he was done, he blinked, and looked around. Well, at least he could see now. He looked back down at his phone, and clicked the button to call Russia again. He put it up to his ear, and waited.

"Привет, Alfredka." Came the husky reply from the other end of the line.

Alfred blinked, and was unsure of what to say now that he had actually gotten this far. "U-um, about today, I-" He trailed off, realizing that his voice was a bit shaky.

"Shh…" the Russian whispered into the phone. "I know. I should not have done what I did. I got carried away. There is simply no way you could ever return what I feel. I was a fool for even thinking that you would."

Alfred took in a breath. "No dude. Listen. You've got it all wrong. I really wanted to talk about this. I think I might actually-"

He was cut off by the Russian. "No, I know already. You do not like me, and that is fine. I acted out of turn. Had I just killed you, this would be far easier. Then again, it would have been easier on you to kill me that day in the snow. Instead, you managed to carry me all the way back to town. If you had killed me then, I would not have had the opportunity to almost kill you earlier today."

"You are totally missing the point, dammit!" Alfred snapped.

Taken aback, the Russian could not even form words. Instead, there was dead silence on his end of the line.

"I love you!"

There it was, clear and plain as day, out in the open. He had said it, and he meant it too.

 _Author's Notes: *I do not condone communism, but I have no ill feelings towards those who support it. The insult was to maintain character only. Please don't take offense! I love you all!_

 _Translation:_ Привет - Hello


	4. Chapter 4 - Confess and Assess

_Author's Notes: I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG! I have been really busy with school, and I had lost my muse for a while. I AM BACK NOW THOUGH! As always, please review if you like it or maybe have suggestions. I love you all! Enjoy~_

 **Chapter 4 – Confess and Assess**

"You what?"

"I said that I love you, dammit!"

The Russian male was shocked. Did the American on the other end of the line really just say that he returned the very same feelings that he had held inside for all of these years? "A-Alfredka... I…"

"No! It's my turn to talk. You don't get a say right now, darn you. It's my turn." Alfred took in a long and deep breath to collect himself, and he looked over out the window. "I… no… you made me really realise how much I care about ya, Ivan, and I just… I don't really know how to handle it."

"Then do not handle it."

"What?"

"Let me handle it for you. Let your feelings be mine. Let all of your fears and insecurities be vanquished by our love."

"I-Ivan... That's mighty sweet of ya to say, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't… know…"

"Alfredka… can you come over? I really would prefer to have this conversation in person… and you have men everywhere I turn that are seemingly instructed to kill me on sight."

"I'm in Britain."

"Can I come to you?"

"Y-yeah… just… let me tell Arthur. I don't want the old man freaking out."

"You do not know that he is only about twenty-eight, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Save it commie."

"I love you too."

With that, Alfred hung up, and crept out of his room to talk to England. He walked down the hall, and saw his former caretaker sitting on the couch with a concerned look on his face. "Arthur… is it okay if Russia comes over?"

"America, you are a grown man. Make decisions for yourself. I am glad to see that you are alright nonetheless. Can you see alright?"

"Yeah. I can see. I found my contacts in the bedroom drawer." The American said blandly. "…and, thanks."

Arthur gave a curt nod. "Right."

With that, the golden blond American ran upstairs, and grabbed his phone, swiftly sending a text message. ' _You can come over. :)_ ' Immediately following that, Alfred ran into the bathroom, and combed his hair, making sure he actually looked presentable. After he brushed his hair, he brushed his teeth and used mouthwash before going back to his room to get dressed. He grabbed a pair of dark jeans, and a name brand t-shirt in red, one of the colours he happened to wear best. Then, he began his waiting game.

Quite a few hours later, the Russian pulled in the driveway in his beautiful grey BMW Nazca M12. How he had managed to get his hands on one of these rare cars has left many people wondering about just how many people the elusive Russian really had contact with. He stepped out, dressed finely in dark clothing, complete with a violet button-down shirt that complimented his eyes. When the American saw him pull in, he immediately got out of his t-shirt and jeans, and put on something far more similar to Ivan, but his simple, rebel wardrobe did not give him much option. He then darted downstairs and out the door. He nearly ran straight into the Russian, whom was just getting ready to knock on the door.

"Well, someone is sure eager to see a filthy communist." The Russian male teased with a giggle.

"Oh, hush. Ya look great."

"Why thank you Alfred. Now, let us go for a drive."


	5. Chapter 5 - The Drive

_Author's Notes: Woo! This chapter is done! In the next chapter, THERE WILL BE SMUT._ _ **YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**_ _As always, please review and let me know how I'm doing!_

 **Chapter 5 – The Drive**

"A drive, huh?"

"Oh, would you just trust me, Alfredka?" He asked politely as he opened the passenger side door for the young American. He grabbed Alfred by the hand gently, and helped him into the luxury vehicle. Alfred blushed a bright pink hue as he was treated like this. He had never had anyone be so chivalric towards him, and that especially meant Ivan. He graciously accepted the help though, and he found himself smiling the entire time. When Alfred was securely in the car, the Russian closed the door gently, and walked around to the other side before stepping into the vehicle himself. Thankfully for Ivan, his large size did not hinder him from actually getting into the vehicle- though he still had to duck his head a bit more to get in. Once settled a bit, he pulled on his seatbelt, but then turned his attention to the American beside him. "Thank you for letting me see you on such short notice."

"No problem, big guy. I wasn't busy anyway." He tried to sound as casual as possible as he sat there. He didn't want Ivan to know that he had been crying about him, or that he had broken his glasses… 'Oh shoot… my glasses.' Alfred internally cursed himself.

"I know that they say that love is blind, but that does not mean that you have to sacrifice your vision in an effort to make yourself look more appealing. I happen to like your glasses."

"I can see just fine. I'm wearing contacts."

Ivan gave a soft nod. "Ah, yes. I should have entertained that as a possibility."

Alfred could most certainly see fine. He was in complete and utter awe of the whole situation- the way he had been treated, Ivan, and the car… especially the car caught his attention. One might say of Alfred that he was a bit of a connoisseur for them. He absolutely loved cars, especially ones with a bit of muscle under the hood. He had several vehicles at home in America including a bright red Mustang and a jet black Dodge Charger. He, of course, had some much better cars than that in his collection as well, and those two only scratched the surface. Now though, he was fascinated by the vehicle he was in. German-made and Italian-designed, this car was beautiful. He could barely keep a straight face. Then, he realised that he had completely blanked out in mid-conversation. "What? Oh, yeah. You should have. Figures a commie like you wouldn't think of it."

"That is awfully harsh for someone who happens to be in a place that they do not wish to leave."

"I beg yer pardon?"

"My car. You seem to love it so very much."

Alfred swallowed. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty nice. Where'd ya steal it from?"

"Excuse you. I bought this vehicle at an auction." He retorted. "I do not know that I very well appreciate you thinking that I must steal to get what I want. I have plenty of money, Alfredka. I am quite offended that you think that I do not."

Alfred was beginning to freak out a bit. "W-wait! I didn't mean to offend you! I'm sorry!"

The Russian began to giggle. "Silly Alfredka, you are so very cute."

"I'm not cute!"

"I think that you are."

"Well… what do you know? You're just a-"

"Communist? Yes, I know. I am a filthy, dirty, rotten, mean, good-for-nothing Communist bastard."

"Well, I never said that…"

"You have before."

"Well, okay, yeah… but that was before I l-" His tongue caught on itself.

"Loved me? Да, I know that too."

"Then why are ya giving me such a hard time?!"

"Because it is very amusing to see how cute you are when you get flustered."

The American blushed again, and crossed his arms as he diverted his gaze out the window.

"See? You are blushing, Alfredka. It is very adorable."

"Hush."

"You will not act quite that way when we get back to my place."

"We're goin' to yer house?"

"Where did you think we were headed?"

The American could feel his stomach growl. "McDonald's maybe?"

"Oh, of course. I do forget that you listen to your stomach above all else."

"So… are we going or not?"

"Дa. I will get you McDonald's." The Russian said with a small laugh.

A half hour of driving or so later, they arrived at one of the golden-arched establishments, and they stepped out of the car. Alfred ordered enough for a small army, and Ivan settled for some fries. He was not too fond of anything else there, save for their hash browns. So, it was with the quiet munching of the Russian on his fries and the ravenous gorging of the American on his king-sized meal. Ivan couldn't help but to giggle a bit at the sight of him as he ate. The fact that the relatively lean American could consume such vast quantities of food amazed and grossed him out at the same time. At last, they had finished their meal and they were back on the road.

"Are you better now, Alfredka?"

"Yeah." The American said with a small chuckle. "I never realised that ya don't eat much. How'd ya get to be big like y'are if ya don't eat?"

"I eat plenty, just not at McDonald's."

"Oh. Well I feel dumb now."

"You should not. I just simply prefer home cooked meals; that is all."

"Yeah, that makes sense. I really like homemade apple pie. It's really good in the winter."

"We shall have to make one sometime in the winter together then."

"Really?" Alfred squealed in excitement.

"Дa. I would love to. So long as I am with you, and I get to see you smile, then I shall be happy as well."

"Ya know, I'm startin' to like this side of ya a whole hell of a lot more than when you have a gun to my head."

"Well, I am quite flattered to hear that."

After that, there was a bit of silence in the car as the hours passed away and they arrived in Russia. Ivan pulled into the driveway with ease and he opened the garage. Once inside and parked, he helped America out of the car, and took him inside. His home was beautiful as well, classic, and not too lavishly decorated. It was tasteful to say the least. Most notably, Alfred liked the bearskin rug in front of the stone fireplace.

"Wow Ivan… you've got a really nice place."

Ivan was smiling brightly, and nodded in gratitude. "Once again, thank you."

Ivan led Alfred down one of the halls, and brought him to his bedroom. Ivan had a beautiful bedroom too- a wrought-iron canopy bed stood proudly in the middle of the room, decorated with fine, elegant sheets of a dark crimson colour. It was something Alfred would have expected to see in a palace. The rest of the room was adorned with dark hues, from ebony dressers to dark curtains that framed tall windows. He could barely believe his eyes. It was so incredibly gothic, but charming in a way all of its own. That was when Alfred looked up at the pale Russian, and their eyes met. The sight sent a chill of anticipation down his spine as he felt a warmth begin to pool in his stomach. He had felt this feeling before, but couldn't quite place it. He thought for a moment, and it hit him. Lust. It was the feeling he had from the torture chamber. He swallowed thickly, and blinked.


	6. Chapter 6 - Into the Clutches of Desire

_Author's Notes: MWHAHAHA~ It's finally finished, my pretties! About 2500 words for this chapter! There is smut as I promised! Again, as you know, please follow and review. It makes my day. I couldn't do this without you! Enjoy~_

 **Chapter 6 – Into the Clutches of Desire**

"Is something the matter, Alfredka?" the Russian male cooed.

The question was agonising to the American. It shook him straight to his very core, and he began to feel a pang of apprehension build in his chest. He could feel his pace begin to quicken slightly, and the pulse in the side of his neck was a profound factor to the inhibition of his concentration. The fact that the smile on the face of the Russian was genuine and not predatory made him almost more weary. At that moment, the whole day began to reel in his mind and seem odd. The breathing in his chest was becoming quicker, and then hitched. He began to retrace everything that had happened, and when he realised that he was actually asked a question, his mouth parted, but no words were spoken. Instead, his eyes became transfixed on the Russian before him, and the apprehension wore itself away as his body gave way to the hormones coursing their way through him. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck, and rubbed it out of nervous habit, noting that it was hot to the touch. It soon became apparent that there was no way to lie his way out of it. He wanted the Russian. He wanted _all_ of him, and he wanted him now. "Wh-what would possibly make ya think that, big guy?"

Ivan held a beautiful grin across his lips- and a tantalizing one at that. He fixed his violet gaze on the flustered American, and as he saw him become nervous, then slowly become flustered, he couldn't help himself but to let out a giggle. It was a small giggle at best, but nonetheless it escaped the Russians lips with such an ease that it almost seemed natural. How often did he actually laugh? Not often, but given the situation, he found himself becoming a bit more different than usual. He strode over to the American with a predatory swagger to his step, and crept around behind him. He brought a firm and pale arm to wrap around the Americans waist and he leaned in so that his breath hit the others ear as he spoke. His voice was barely above a husky whisper. "Silly Alfredka… that is because it is plainly written all over your face. Why else would I suggest such a thing?" He pulled the young American male into him, letting his own chest rest gently against the back of the smaller male.

The giggle resonated in Alfred's ears, and sent a small chill down his spine. He didn't know quite how to feel or act, and then he noticed the gleam in the Russians eyes as stalked over towards him. The American stood nigh next to stock still as he felt the Russian wrap him around the waist. He felt his pants actually strain slightly, and tighten at the gesture. A knot formed in his throat, and he swallowed. He felt the hot breath on his ear, and that produced a bit of relaxation in him. He was losing his will. He was soon to become putty in the hands of the pale man behind him- a compliant caterer to his every whim. However, that was not the kind of character Alfred possessed. No. He was one to be bright, and cheery, yet defiant. America had never been known to go down without a fight, but this time around he could feel that fire being ever so slowly taken away from him. "St-stupid Commie… I… Yer makin' me…" His face was flushed, and he couldn't help it any longer. What he felt was far too strong to ignore.

"I am making you what? Desire me, perhaps?" the Russian was somehow coy, and devious in tone. He took his other hand, and slipped it between their bodies slightly, using it to rub the small of the Americans back. "There is no sense in trying to hide what you feel, you know," His words sent another shiver through the American. Finding the action rather amusing, violet eyes shimmered. He held the smaller male there close to him for a few more moments, before taking his hand from the others back and up to his cheek, stroking tanned skin delicately with his thumb. "My… look at how positively adorable you are…" He purred out the words as he kissed the American on the neck gently.

The kiss on the neck sent the Americans heart into a race, his mind was on fire. He could feel himself leaning up into the Russian at the gesture, and he actually didn't mind. "Ivan…" his voice was faint- a mere whisper as he said the Russians name. "I want you… please…" His eyes were already beginning to glaze over with lust as he glanced towards the bed. He was still blushing madly, unsure of how to ask.

Apparently though, Alfred didn't have to say a single word. Ivan could feel the desire coursing through him, and he now wanted the American just as badly as the blond wanted him. He wasted no time in scooping him into strong arms bridal style before placing him on the bed on his back. He then snuck up over the edge of the bed, like an animal on the hunt, and he began to straddle Alfred. He looked down at him with his beautiful amethyst coloured eyes- eyes that seemed to stare into America's soul. The large Russian brought himself down to meet Alfred's lips with a hungry and insatiable lust. He licked the Americans lips slightly, successfully gaining entrance to the mouth of the male below him. Their tongues clashed together beautifully, keeping a near rhythm. The Russian could feel his member growing in his pants with each passing moment, and the urge to grind down became too great as he dipped his hips roughly to meet the Americans clothed cock. Firm hands moved to Alfred's shirt, and he slid it off of him with ease. As the garment was haphazardly discarded on the floor, Ivan moved his attention from the blonds lips to his neck- trailing wet kisses down the bare and tanned skin until he reached a nipple that he decided to flick teasingly with his tongue. He wanted to make this as passionate as possible for the American, and that was what he intended to do. Taking a hand to hold down the hips that were now bucking up into his groin, he used the other to rub the other nub on Alfred's chest. Almost immediately, it grew hard under his touch, and he pinched the sensitive little area.

A squeak escaped Alfred's lips as he looked up at the Russian through glassy sapphire orbs. He had never really known pleasure like this. He had fooled around once or twice before with human girls, but those relationships didn't last long and never really got too far. It would have never worked seeing as they aged and he did not. This situation though, was different entirely. This was Russia- a country. This was a man that knew what he was doing, and that could be there for a while if they truly did love one another. However, none of this was on Alfred's mind as he let himself succumb to the advances the Russian made. Looming over him with those violet eyes and platinum locks that had long since become plastered to his face with sweat- Ivan was beautiful, to say the least. Alfred had tried to buck his hips upwards to create more friction for his hard and needy cock, but only to have the heel of a Russian palm rest on his hip bone and prevent it. He should have seen it coming, really. His lips were caught in yet another kiss, and he moved his tanned hands up to tangle lanky fingers into the Russians hair. "I-Ivan… ahh…. You… make me feel so good…" he scarcely knew what his lust-filled state was making him say. "…can you… take me?" he asked sheepishly. He was silenced by a gentle brush to his lips only moments later. His eyes went slightly wide at the gesture, but he accepted it.

It was not long at all before the Russian had removed his own shirt, discarding it next to that of the American, and began to slowly unwind his scarf from his neck. He took the scarf and gently placed it on the bedside table, rather than dropping it on the floor. His scarf was too precious to him for that. Then, he fixed his gaze on the Americans belt, fastened by an oversized Texas belt buckle. Nothing screamed cowboy quite like a giant buckle on his belt. The Russian removed the piece of metal with expertise, taking the leather along with it. This allowed the pants to slowly slip around the Americans ankles under the Russians touch. He let out another lightly sadistic giggle, and he flashed a wild smile. "You know that I can. Silly Amerika," he purred.

Sapphire eyes were easily on fire, burning their gaze into the Russian as the larger, much paler male removed their clothing. He gave a shiver of excitement, and couldn't help but to look up at him pleadingly with those baby blues of his. There was a sense of freedom as his pants were removed- he had still gone with dark denim, having no dress pants of his own. The front of his boxers was soaked with precum, and he elicited a rather delicious sounding moan as the pressure of his jeans was removed from his stiff cock. He feared that it would attempt jailbreak from its simple cloth confines. "Now… please…?"

Seeing the pure whining need of the American, the Russian gladly complied. He removed his own pants, along with his boxers. It happened all in one swift motion, and before the Americans eyes, Russia's massive cock was put on display. The Russian male was leaking precum from the tip, and he looked hungry. The American couldn't bear to take his gaze away from it, and that made Ivan very pleased. "Are you impressed, my sweet Amerika?" He purred. Then, large hands grasped the waistband of Alfred's boxers, and he proceeded to feast his own eyes. It was certainly a bit larger than he initially expected- he thought the American was all talk and no walk. Well, apparently that was not the case. He looked at the organ, and how it throbbed and twitched with need for him- yes, him. America wanted Russia. He took one hand, and grasped the length of the American gently, before moving his hand up and down. While he established a pace, he caught the whimpering blond's lips in a kiss. He used his free hand to reach into a nearby drawer, and from the inside he produced a bottle of lube. He set it down gently, and then removed the hand that was occupied with Alfred's cock, and pinched a nipple before picking the bottle up again. He unscrewed the cap, and spilled some of its contents onto three of his digits. ' _That will be more than sufficient._ ' He thought to himself. He looked deeply into the Americans eyes at that point, and softly asked him, "Are you ready?" When he received a small nod in response, he inserted the first finger.

The feeling came with an extremely sharp pain to the American. He had never been on the bottom in any of his relationships, and he had no idea what to expect. He hissed, and almost proceeded to pull away. The Russian used his other hand to hold him in place though, and he soon felt himself being kissed again. He could feel Ivan's tongue slip into his mouth with ease, and he graciously accepted its presence. It definitely helped to get his mind off the pain he could feel in his rear. "Ahh… Ivan… it hurts… please… nngh…" he groaned helplessly. He tried his best to adjust to the pain, but when a long, pale finger found its way to his prostate, he cried out in ecstasy. "There! Ah, give me more!"

A second finger found its way into the American, soon followed by a third. When he deemed the American to be ready, he emptied the remaining contents of the bottle into his hand, and he rubbed it along his own cock. He positioned himself at the entrance carefully, and held onto the Americans hips. "This… will sting…" he warned as he pushed his length in, allowing the wet heat to swallow his cock. He elicited a rather loud and throaty moan at the feeling, and then waited patiently for the American to adjust. "Just tell me when~"

There was a lot of writhing and squirming from Alfred, as well as a sharp yelp. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he stayed almost completely still for a bit. He looked at Ivan with pleading eyes, but then swallowed. After quite a few minutes, he had finally adjusted to Russia's girth. He begged for the larger male to move, as golden blond lashes blinked away the last of their tears.

Russia rocked his hips, and rutted in deeply but slowly. He started at a slow pace, but as he picked up the pace, he held one hand on Alfred's waist, and the other maneuvered its way back to the blonds ignored cock. Over time, he began to pump with the rhythm of his thrusts- sending the American into ecstasy. He hit that spot again and again perfectly, and he was rewarded with cries of his name. He flashed another grin, and let himself smile into a heated kiss. Their tongues danced violently and crashed together blissfully in a pattern of pure need and desperation. Neither of them would ever have guessed that they wanted the other so badly. It was not long at all before Ivan felt the space around his member tighten, and his chest became painted in a creamy white. A very intense cry of his name was heard as he felt the sensation. He released everything he had at that point, and filled the American to the brim, leaving him hot and flushed beneath him. "ALFREDKA!" He cried out as he finished. He then pulled out his limp cock, and collapsed in a panting heap beside the blond. His own platinum locks were plastered to his forehead as he buried his face in a pillow.

Alfred glanced over at Ivan with a bright smile on his face. He had never felt so amazing before. ' _Damn, he sure is adorable once he's spent. I can't believe he's that fuckin' great.'_ His thoughts were a bit hazy, but that was what was on his mind. He snuggled up to the Russian, seeking comfort, and to his surprise, he received it. Muscular arms were wrapped around his lean frame, and they simply lay there in a peaceful, cuddling silence for the remainder of the night. Neither dared to say a word.


	7. Chapter 7 - What in Blue Blazes?

_Author's Notes: Ok, first off, I am super sorry that this was late. I hit s MAJOR writers block, and I have had a ton of homework and assignments to do this week. Second! With my apology out of the way, let me explain the title of this chapter. "What in blue blazes?" is a phrase used in some Southern and Midwestern parts of the United Sates. It roughly means "What on earth?" or "What the hell?" So, yep! That's the title of this chapter. Read, and you'll see why. Also, chapter 8 will focus almost entirely on Ivan. He's precious. ^-^ Please follow and review! Enjoy~!_

Chapter 7 – What in Blue Blazes?

Alfred woke up panting and unsure of what had happened. He was extremely delirious, and had almost no clue where he was. He looked beside himself on the bed, and noted that there was no one beside him. He was completely alone. 'Where is he?' the American thought to himself. Then, he noticed everything. There was light coming in from the window behind cream-coloured drapes. He looked down at himself, and saw that not only was he in his boxers, but the front of them was slightly sticky. When he had fallen asleep with Ivan…

Alfred's gaze snapped back and forth across the room, and he immediately noticed that something was amiss. This wasn't Ivan's bedroom. This was his bedroom that he had at England's house. The sheets and comforter were bright blue, and he had tan and cream pillows strewn about the bed. An American flag hung on the wall, and the flag of Texas was on wall opposite. A lucky horseshoe hung above the door by a single, rusted nail.

He glanced at the clock, and it was nearly eleven in the morning. He could smell that England was cooking, and he got slightly excited. America was the only country besides England that actually liked his cooking. He stood up, still very confused. When he tried to blink, he found that he had could not see. How much of that had been a dream? Did he even call Ivan? He grabbed his phone, and low and behold, he hadn't made a single call yesterday. His call history was blank. He had dreamt the entire thing.

All he had done was come running here, have a fit, tell Arthur how he felt, broke his glasses, and ran upstairs. Apparently he had cried himself to sleep, and that had led to him dreaming of an ideal situation between himself and the Russian. The thought embarrassed him now more than anything. Was he honestly so infatuated by a man that was going to murder him that he was having wet dreams about him? He rubbed his puffy eyes and got changed. He went to wash his face, and suddenly realised he couldn't really see. He had even dreamt putting the contacts in. "Dammit!" he cursed to himself. His whole morning was messed up now, and he was only able to get around out of old habit. He went to the drawer where he kept the contacts, but found that he actually had a spare pair of glasses next to them, just like the ones he had broken. He slipped those on instead, and ran a comb through his hair loosely. He then went down the stairs, and breathed in the smell of what was supposedly bacon and eggs. It smelled delicious to him. "Good mornin' Arthur," he said with a soft yawn.

The British male had spent the better part of the previous night lying awake in bed and worrying about Alfred. He could be a bit of a mother hen at times, and this was definitely one of those times. He was concerned, not only because Alfred was in love with Ivan, but because he was in love to begin with. He knew that this was something entirely new and different to the young American, and he honestly didn't know how Alfred would take everything. He prayed that the events of yesterday were not any indication to future events. He really hoped that Alfred was calmer this morning. "Well I see that you're awake. Did you sleep well?"

The American shot a glance of daggers in the direction of the Brit, because he certainly hadn't slept well, "Hell no! I didn't sleep well!" the American screamed out at the Brit. Then, he gave out a small sigh. "I apparently went to sleep thinking about him!" the American male complained, "I woke up this morning and I-" he cut himself off. "N-never mind… it's embarrasin'…" he commented lamely. "It's too early for this shit…" Clearly, he was very upset this morning.

The British male brought up a hand, and rubbed his temples. "America… it will be alright dear, come here," he whispered softly, "You don't need to tell me," Then, he brought the American into a warm hug, an almost parental one. He placed a hand on the back of the Americans shoulder, and rubbed it softly to calm him down. "America, I want for you to listen to me, alright? Everything will be alright. You need to just take a few deep breaths, lad," he cooed.

The words of the British male calmed the shaking American down considerably, and Alfred gave a long sigh. "Yer right, I'm just bein' crazy, huh?" his voice was soft and unsure, but he no longer felt terrible. He pulled himself away from the hug, and adjusted his glasses since they had gone a little crooked. "Thanks, Art. It really means a lot to me how much ya care. Now, how 'bout we get some of that breakfast ya made?" a bit of his normal colour was back to his cheeks, and Alfred gave a weak smile as they sat down at the breakfast table.

England grabbed two plates from the cupboard, and set one down in his place, and one in front of the American. He grabbed a piece of bacon and some eggs for himself- not eating a whole lot. Then, he let the American help himself. "I'm not for certain how hungry you are, so eat however much you want, alright?' the Brit said with a soft, warming smile.

Alfred nodded softly, and eagerly filled his plate. Even though he hadn't thought he was hungry, he greedily downed everything he put on his plate. When he was finished, he leaned back a bit in his chair, and stretched. "Thank you, Arthur," he said with a yawn. Then, after helping clear all the dishes away, Alfred went back to his room, and began to stare out the window a bit. He glanced to his cell phone lying on the bed, and wondered whether to call Ivan. Deciding against it, he grabbed his car keys, and walked out the door. He would just drive there instead.


End file.
